


Quiet Nights

by KaniTheCrab



Series: Words Unspoken (Dialogue free pieces) [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: for a contest, it tried to import the whole amino app when i used the link thing, why is it like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaniTheCrab/pseuds/KaniTheCrab
Summary: The story of a father and his house, in which it becomes the story of a boy and the same house. The same blanket of silence over both men and that old house in the desert.





	Quiet Nights

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the #DetailsSpeakLouderThanWords contest on amino. The goal is no dialogue explicitly shown AT ALL.
> 
> This first entry was actually more difficult than I thought it would be to write, but the practice was great. I really enjoyed this- thank you for the opportunity and your support, Halley! and thank you to who reads this for the support! I hope you enjoy. :) -Dani
> 
> Getting a beta reader online to read this was comically difficult oh my god.  
> I tried to import this to ao3 using the nifty link thing and um... it tried to import the entire amino app.  
> ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«  
> Songs:  
> Where Friend Rhymes With End - Ane Burn  
> Follow You Down to the Red Oak Tree - James Vincent McMorrow

The house was quiet. Now, usually it was quiet. A warm quiet. Soft and welcoming, a blanket in which one could get wrapped up and feel comfort. It’d been this way for years. She’d changed it from the lonesome, aching quiet that it once had been. But now, she was gone.

No longer was the quiet a soft one- but it wasn’t a sad one due to a lonesome heart anymore either. It was a dull ache. The quiet wasn’t quiet because that was how it was preferred. It was quiet because without her, everything was muted. Not even the pain of being without her was sharp.

The only sharpness in Heath’s life came from his work as a firefighter- the adrenaline rush of being in those situations. But, even that had become slightly faded without her.

And then there was the second sharpness. The reason he kept going once she’d left to her people. The small boy in the next room who looked so much like her it would be nearly unbearable at times. The little boy who, like now as he shattered the silence, would only call for him like a toddler would.

It was never “Daddy”. Not at the station when keith had to stay there. Not when they were running errands. Not even here in their small home, where it was just the two of them. It was always “Pops”.

It was only ever “Daddy” when Keith was having a nightmare.

With a sigh, Heath pulled himself up from the couch and into their bedroom, moving to the nest of soft blankets and pillows the child insisted on making. Must be an instinct from his mother. He wasn’t surprised to see him hugging his favorite stuffed animal, peaking out over the hippo’s worn head with wide, dark eyes.

He smiled warmly at the boy, walking to the bed and holding out his arms. Keith was hesitant, but soon was clinging to the elder man. A soft joke was spoken about Keith being too big for this one day as he walked to the porch. Even if that were true, that wouldn’t stop Heath from trying.

At ten years old, Keith had childish parts to him- what most would consider childish, anyways. The stuffed animal, for one. But that was all he had of his mother, aside from her dagger and a note. Sleeping in the same bed with his father, for two. Even at the station house, he was more comfortable huddled into Heath’s side. If Heath had to be honest, he preferred it that was as well. At least that way, he felt more anchored to the small boy.

Never a talker, it took Heath a while of cuddling and stargazing to finally coax Keith into talking about the dream. He wasn’t a child hiding anything, just one who preferred not to worry anyone and to observe more than be the focus with people he didn’t know. He had his moments of hyperactivity, enjoying cooking or wrestling with what was basically his family at the firehouse. But usually, he was quiet and attentive.

The dream was a usual one- one about being left all alone, having no one there for him and no one who cared. By the time Keith had told about how no matter who he tried to talk to in the dream, they ignored him; how they all believed he was no good and how he didn’t have any sort of a bright future ahead of him like other kids did.. By the time he finished, he was shaking with silent sobs and whimpers.

Heath cooed and rocked him, rubbing his back to soothe him. All he could think of to reassure and calm his son, he did.

Only after many “that won’t ever happen buddy”s, “i love you”s, and “you won’t ever be all alone”s was it that the boy seemed to believe his father. Only after more of these did Heath stop, moving Keith in his lap so that he would be leaning back on his fathers chest. Tonight seemed like a good night for some stargazing and “star stories” as Keith called them.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

The phrase “tell me about mama” can be spoken in so many ways. An exclamation, for example. And from there, one with bitter anger, exasperation, or excitement. Or it can be a question, a plea from one person to another. Or even just a statement. A demand, a request, or so on. But when things are just right, it can be a mixture of those. Things must be that way, on this night.

With a soft yawn, Keith had placed that request tonight. A simple statement that held curiosity, a faint bitterness, and weariness. He didn’t make a move to plead, he had already spoken what he wanted. Now it was up to Heath.

Normally, he would have told him to wait until the next day. But summer break and vacation time away from the firehouse gave him no real excuse. With some reluctance, he caved.

In leu of Keith’s nightmare, he would keep things light. And since the young one was on the verge of sleep, he’d take the stories inside and make them bedtime stories.

This proved to be a good idea on Heath’s part. The two had snuggled down with most of their blankets around them in the nest style Keith enjoyed, their favorite over top of them. The stuffed Hippo rested on Heath’s stomach, Keith’s arm draped across it. Keiths head rested on his fathers chest, chin on his hippo’s head and ear over the elder mans heart. Heath was leaned on their pillows, arm around Keith as he rubbed his son’s back.

He spoke on small things tonight. Not the fights they’d been through together, or the adventures they had. Small stories about exploring the area around the house. Or her attempts at cooking for him. He’d gotten to how he’d been teaching her the constellations just like he’d taught Keith when he heard the boy snoring softly.

With a faint smile on his lips and a kiss to the top of his head, Heath murmured a goodnight to Keith.

Her leaving may have dulled everything around him, but it hadn’t dulled his love for this little one. He only wished she could be here with them, telling Keith stories as well.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

The house was silent. Now, he remembered it had been quiet. A muted quiet. Sad for what was missing, but grateful for what was still there. He only ever knew it as such. But now the small, old house stood dark against the stars. Silent and sorrowful for what was lost.

Coming home wasn’t how he expected it at all. Looking back eight years ago, he always expected to be here. Then... he’d expected to return right after high school. Get away from those families who didn’t really care about him- or if they did, they didn’t show it in a way he understood.

But then he’d been given hope of the bright future everyone said he didn’t have. Then, someone cared. Someone listened. But he wasn’t here anymore. If he was here, Keith wouldn’t be home.

But he’s gone. Dead they say. Takashi Shirogane. The best pilot the Galaxy Garrison has ever seen. Along with Samuel and Matthew Holt. Pilot error, they say. They blame it on his condition.

Keith knew better. He couldn’t stay around then, when they kept lying to him. Kept dragging the one man who fought for him through the dirt.

Adam knew better. But refused to fight. No, he’d gone down hill when Shiro left. And with te news of the “Pilot Error”? He knew it was a lie. But the lie was covering something else up. And regardless of what it was covering up, Shiro was still gone.

Maybe if he wasn’t so hotheaded, or Adam wasn’t so... himself. Maybe then they could have comforted one another more than just those first few nights.

Maybe if he wasn’t so concerned with getting away from that place, he could have spoken with James. Told him that he’d be leaving, by his own will or expulsion.

Maybe if Keith had sided with Adam more, Shiro would have been convinced to stay on Earth and go on a different mission.

Or maybe nothing would have changed. Maybe Shiro still would have gone. He still would have disappeared. Keith and Adam still would have had the worst arguments and finally stopped speaking at all because they hurt so badly. He still would have hit Iverson. He still would have taken his things on his hover bike and booked it home with only a note for James.

As many “what ifs” as there were, this is “what is”. Just barely eighteen, he’s made it a couple months since Shiro went missing and a month without support from Adam. He’s made it seven years and four months since his father died. He’s made it seventeen years without his mother.

And now here he is. Eighteen with no future ahead of him that he can focus on. Eighteen with his inheritance finally his, his home, and his hover bike. Tomorrow, his expulsion would be finalized surely. And tomorrow, he’d go into town and sort whatever he needed to out.

But for tonight... well, tonight was a night for himself. He needed to breathe- this all felt like a horrible, horrible nightmare. Part of him was desperate to sit up in bed and cry for his father, yelling “Daddy” until Heath stepped into the room.

Part of him ached because he knew it wouldn’t happen. Heath wouldn’t come to him and hold him again. He wouldn’t pick him up and brush him off when he scrapped his knees on the hard, dry, cracked sand that made up their property. He wouldn’t be there to tell him Star Stories.

Setting his bag on the couch with a heavy sigh, Keith dug around and pulled out a faded plush of a hippo, stitched and patched in various places but still a dearly beloved item. He clutched it to his chest and walked to the door, sitting on the edge of the porch.

Tomorrow, he’d be an adult who was fully on his own. His own home, bills to pay, he’d have to find a job... he’d have to fully grow up. But for now, he could sit where he always would. Tonight he could rest.. grieve.. do whatever he needed to. He could be a child for just a few hours. That could be spared, considering the circumstances.

The rest of the world could wait a few hours for him. Tonight seemed like a good night for stargazing. He couldn’t pass it up.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«


End file.
